


It’s U

by wullver



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author Projecting onto Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Bisexual GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), By that I mean I modeled his mental breakdowns after mine, DNF, Don't Like Don't Read, Dream Team meetup, Florida, Fujoshis Stay Out, Gay Awakening, Hurt/Comfort, If the CCs want this taken down it will be, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inspired by Heat Waves - tbhyourelame, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Smut, No beta we die like jschlatt, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Queer author, Sharing a Bed, TW: Self Harm, This fic is totally self-indulgent, Titles from Cavetown Songs, Unrequited Love, Write what you know right?, dreamnotfound, mental breakdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wullver/pseuds/wullver
Summary: George and Sapnap come to Florida to visit Dream, but a family emergency cuts the meet-up short, leaving George and Dream alone together. Bad weather and startling revelations drive the two closer and closer, and heartache grows out of control. How will they get through the storm, and when it clears, how will things have changed?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	1. Bitterest Boys In Town

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I wrote this fic mostly for myself, but I figured I might as well post it. That being said, I don’t support people pressuring CCs into relationships. This is purely a work of fiction and in no way is meant to conspire about or try to guess at Dream and George’s relationship. That is entirely their business. Their relationship dynamic is very fun to me, so I wanted to try writing about it. It’s just for fun, so enjoy it and don’t think too hard. Thanks :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Lemon Boy by Cavetown.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we’re all finally going to be together,” Sapnap says as they enter the airport, eyes bright and smile wide.

Dream nods and grins, looking around the airport as if to catch a glimpse of George amongst the many people walking by. He knows they’re meeting him at the baggage check, but he can’t stop the way his heartbeat accelerates with each look around the terminal.

As they approach the claim he looks around more and more. He realizes, almost in panic, that George won’t be able to recognize him. Sapnap tapping on his arm brings him out of his stupor, reminding him that George knew what Sap looked like, and would be able to find them because of that.

“George is over there,” Sap said, pointing to their right, scanning for his bad on the conveyor belt. Dream and Sapnap grin at each other, heading straight for George, who looks around the baggage claim, eyes skipping straight over them. 

Dream holds a finger up to his lips, winking at Sapnap, and creeps up behind George. He grabs him from behind, lifting him off the ground as he yelps. George struggles for a second, but Dream whispers, “Guess who?” 

George goes rigid. Then he starts flailing again with a shrill, “Dream let go of me!”

Dream wheezes, setting George down and letting go of him. George whirls around and freezes, staring up at Dream. His mouth opens slightly as his eyes dart across Dream’s face, drinking in every inch of it. He looks like he can’t believe his eyes.

“You’re- Dream you’re... Handsome?” George says, like he didn’t think it was possible that this was what Dream looked like in real life. Dream can’t help but wheeze again, and Sapnap bursts out laughing too.

“You forgot to say no homo George!” Sapnap says all too seriously, “What will the fans think?”

“Sapnap if you tell them I’ll kill you for real.” George threatens, looking at the baggage claim and then hurrying forward to grab his suitcase. Sapnap just laughs some more. Dream comes up and grabs it from him, and George nods in thanks. They start heading back towards the entrance to the airport.

“C’mere Georgie, gimme a kiss,” Sapnap says, sidling up to George, who pushes him away with a scoff. Sap pouts, “At least give me a hug!”

“Fine.” George pulls Sapnap into a side hug, and he giggles.

“Ooh George, take me in your big strong arms~” Sap coos, and George shoves him again, giving him a look of abject disgust. Dream chuckles at the look.

“I am never hugging you again, you absolute filth.” George declares, turning his nose up at Sap.

“Wow George, can’t be bothered with the peasantry huh. You British are all the same.” Sapnap says, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“Shut up Sap.” George says, glaring at him.

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful, now quit fighting,” Dream says, then gives George a sidelong smirk, “Brace yourself.”

“Wha-“ 

The three step out of the airport and are hit with a wall of brutal heat.

“Oh what the fuck.” 

Dream wheezes.

“Race you to the car!” Sapnap shouts, and George whines in horror.

The drive from the airport to Dream’s house is short. They chatter and catch up the whole way there, with few lulls in the conversation. They talk about using usernames vs real names and decide to just keep using usernames. Switching over would be too much effort.

“Your username is the same as your name, George! Has anyone ever told you how boring you are?”

“What? You are such a dick!” George cries, “Usernames are hard to come up with!”

“No they aren’t, you just have a small brain.” Sapnap says. George scoffs.

“Dream, tell him my username is perfectly fine.” 

He thinks for a second of making fun of George too but he finds that he can’t resist the puppy eyes George is giving him.

“I like your username.” Dream smiles at George in the rear view mirror. George smiles back in genuine happiness, and Dream beams.

“Oh come on, Dream’s opinion doesn’t count,” Sapnap grumbles, “He’s like the number one George simp!”

Dream and George shout in protest while Sap guffaws.

Soon they’re pulling into Dream’s driveway, and he shuts off the car, hopping out. He bows and pulls George’s door open at the same time before heading around the back to get the bags out of the trunk.

George comes to help him, but he waves him off, “Head inside. Don’t want you dying of heatstroke.”

“You are an absolute arse,” George sighs, but turns to head inside nonetheless.

Dream hauls George’s backpack over his shoulder and grabs the suitcase, slamming the trunk shut with his free hand. As he comes in the door he hears George and Sap squabbling, and he chuckles under his breath. He sets George’s bags against a wall, and walks into the living room where George and Sapnap stand arguing.

“I’m too tall for the couch! You can fit your tiny little self on there easily.”

“You are literally an inch taller than me!”

“I’m still taller, and even an inch is a lot when you’re trying to squeeze your way onto a couch.”

“I am not sleeping on the couch, Sapnap.” 

“Come on Georgie. Please. I’ve already put my stuff in the guest room and everything.”

“Oh my god. You are such a bastard.”

Dream clears his throat, “I could swap with you George.”

“I’m not making you sleep on the couch Dream, you’re the host,” George says, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You guys could just sleep together,” Sap suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No! Sapnap!” George cries, mortified.

Dream’s heart pangs stupidly in his chest. He shakes his head to clear the weirdness out, and puts on his best smile.

“Come on Georgie, I don’t bite,” Dream croons, winking. He can see the heat creep up George’s neck and into his cheeks.

“You two are so gross,” Sapnap groans, and shuffles off towards the guest room.

“I hate both of you,” George says lamely. Dream wheezes.

“You’re so dumb George.”

That evening the three of them just settle in. George is wiped, so Sapnap and Dream help him set up the pullout, and they retreat to their rooms early so that he can get some rest. Dream falls asleep more easily than he has in a long time knowing that his best friends are asleep under the same roof.


	2. I’ll Make Cereal

At 8:00 the next morning Dream wakes refreshed. He makes his bed, showers, brushes his teeth, and pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He creeps through the house as quietly as he can, pausing behind the couch to peer down at a sleeping George.

George doesn’t look peaceful when he sleeps, but he does look angelic. Frankly, he always looks angelic to Dream. George’s eyebrows are scrunched, and his lips are slightly parted. He lets out a soft murmur, and Dream feels a wobbly smile spread across his face. In the low light George’s dark brown locks look so soft. Dream wants to reach out and brush them off his forehead. He cuts that thought off before it can bloom, forcing his body away from the couch.

He heads to the kitchen, fetching some eggs and butter from the refrigerator and a pan from the cabinet. Drum hums as he works, making himself a plate of scrambled eggs. He pops some toast in the toaster as well.

Patches wanders in for her breakfast and Dream gives her a quick scratch behind the ears. He dishes up her cat food and sets it in front of her. She hoovers up her food like she’s been starved.

Just as he finishes cooking and serves the eggs onto a plate, George stumbles into the kitchen. Dream’s heart rate spikes. George’s hair is squashed flat on one side and sticks out on the other, and his shift hangs loose off his body, showing off his collar bone. Dream swallows hard. He opens his mouth to speak and his throat makes a strange noise. He clears his throat.

“Hey,” Dream says raspily, smiling softly at George, “You look tired, sure you wanna be up yet?” 

“Mmm,” George grumbles, sitting heavily on a counter stool.

Dream chuckles, “You want some eggs?”

“Yes please,” George says, resting his forehead on the kitchen counter. Patches wanders over, curling her tail around his leg. George leans down and pets her fondly, murmuring intelligibly. Dream chuckles. He forgets that George has had cats too.

Dream sets down the plate of eggs in front of George, then moves back across the kitchen to make his own food. George pipes up, grogginess forgotten, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh there’s plenty about me that you don’t know,” Dream grins, flipping the scraper in one hand. 

“Ooh an international man of mystery huh? What am I going to discover next, that you’re a top secret agent?” George jests, and Dream gives him an exaggerated look of surprise.

“Damn, now you know all my secrets. You’re too smart for me George.” Dream says sarcastically.

“I know.” George says, taking a meaningful bite of his eggs. He moans, shoveling in another few bites as quick as he can. Dream chokes on his saliva.

“I did not realize how hungry I was. This is delicious!”

Dream laughs, “It’s eggs with salt and pepper, nothing unique.... Well, there is one secret ingredient.”

George narrows his eyes at him, visibly bracing himself for the punchline.

“My loooooveee-“ Dream makes a kissy face at George, who gags instantly. He makes an expression of mock disgust.

“Cook your eggs you absolute clown.”

Dream complies, pushing his eggs around in the pan. He serves them onto a plate of his own, then turns off the burner, moving to sit across the counter from George, who smiles at him between bites.

They eat in comfortable silence until Sapnap comes in, looking significantly more awake than George. He’s texting, smiling at his phone.

“Texting your girlfriend Sappynappy?” George teases.

“I’m texting Karl.” Sapnap says, rolling his eyes.

“Whats the difference?” Dream asks, and Sapnap gives them both a death glare. George snickers and Dream’s heart flutters irritatingly.

“You made eggs for George and not for me?” Sap whines, “The favoritism is real.”

“Relax Sapnap, I’ll get started on your eggs now,” Dream laughs.

While Dream cooks more eggs, Sapnap and George discuss options for the day. They ask Dream for input about the activities available locally. He suggests going to the beach, bowling, the movies, or an aquarium. They decide on the first option.

Dream serves Sapnap his breakfast, then he and George each head to get their things. Absently, Dream wonders what George looks like in a bathing suit.


	3. Talk To Me

George struggling to put sunscreen on his back gets more and more hilarious with every failure.

“You want some help with that Georgie?” Dream teases. 

“I can do it myself!” George exclaims, missing the same spot on his back for the 100th time. Dream gets up, grabbing the tube of sunscreen off of the towel where George left it, tapping George’s shoulder. George jumps, quickly turning, and Dream laughs. 

“Just let me help idiot, it’s only a few areas that you missed.” 

George’s eyes are wider than dinner plates, but he nods slowly. George’s back is warm to the touch. He hyper-focuses on the feeling of skin underneath his hands. When Dream’s hand travels across George’s lower back, just above the waistband of his shorts, he feels George shudder. Dream pulls his hands back like he’s been burned. 

“Okay, all done! See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Dream says, wiping his hands on his shorts then making to ruffle George’s hair. George ducks out of the way. 

“Fuck you,” He says without any venom, glaring playfully at Dream. 

“You wish,” Dream smirks, and George turns tomato red, sending a weird, happy warmth through Dream’s chest, “Aw poor little Georgie, can’t take the heat.” 

“Shut up Dream.” 

George looks so pretty like this, all flushed and shy.

“Make me,” Dream challenges. He can practically see George’s heart rate speed up, enjoying the way his breathing visibly quickens, pale chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks at Dream like a startled rabbit.

At that moment Sapnap decides to come back from getting snacks. He balances three cones in a carrier in his arms, and he looks like a child on Christmas Day.

“Guys they have ice cream cones for so cheap here! And it’s so much ice cream too-“

He looks back and forth between Dream and George. “Oh my god guys, can you go like five minutes without flirting?”

“Shut up Sap, I swear to god I’m going to kill you,” George threatens, and turns to jog for the water, leaving the other two behind. Sapnap frowns after him.

“What’s George so worked up about?” 

“Nothing, I just helped him put some sunscreen on his back and teased him a bit.” 

Sapnap snorts, “Fellas, is it gay to rub sunscreen on your homie’s back?” 

“Whatever dude,” Dream sighs, “He seemed fine until you walked up.” 

“Wow, rude much?” Sapnap says jokingly, then carefully props the cone carrier up on one of their towels, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know Dream, George has always been really flighty and nervous about flirting, and that’s just online. It’s probably even more intense and uncomfortable for him in real life.”

Dream frowns, “Shit. Yeah. You’re right. Dammit I should have checked myself.”

“Yeah. I don’t know, you should go talk to him. I don’t think he’s really mad but he did seem pretty on edge.”

Dream sits for a second, steeling himself.

Just go over and apologize. He’s not gonna bite your head off or anything.

He inhales deeply.

“Ok. I’ll be right back.” 

He grabs two of the cones, nods at Sapnap, and sets off for where George sits by the water.

Dream sits down next to George, nudging his wet shoulder with his elbow. George jolts in surprise, then looks at Dream like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, chewing on his lips. Dream offers him an ice cream cone, and George gives him a soft, pleased smile in return. Dream’s heart flips. Ignoring it, he licks some melted ice cream from the side of his cone.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable earlier. I seems like you aren’t really ok with flirting so I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, if you want.”

George frowns, “I don’t mind the flirting. It’s overwhelming sometimes but most of the time it’s just funny, and I know you mean well. I got a bit flustered because I’m not used to you actually being right here when it’s happening.”

“Oh,” Dream says sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“I mean there’s not really much either of us can do about that,” George shrugs, “Except try to get used to it.”

Dream swallows the lump in his throat, “Yeah that’s true but I could try to tone it down a bit?”

“I guess...” George murmurs.

“George whatever you want to do is fine with me. If I overstep at all you just need to let me know and I’ll back off,” Dream says, looking at George meaningfully.

“Ok,” George murmurs with the softest smile he’s ever seen, “Thanks Clay.”

Dream feels like he might spontaneously combust. George used his name. He used his real name. He’s not sure why, but he feels like he’s just poured his heart out only to receive an unexpectedly warm reception. George turns to look out to sea, smile lingering. The burning doesn’t go away.

Dream sits and takes everything in. The blazing sun, the shimmering ocean, the ice cream dripping down his hand, and George sitting next to him, all soft and pretty in the heat of the day. For a moment he feels like he’ll never know a more complete happiness than what he feels now. 

They sit for a minute in silence and contentment, eating their ice cream and watching the waves.

“You guys all good?” Sapnap asks, coming up to stand behind them.

Dream gives him a thumbs up.

“Done with that ice cream yet?” Sapnap asks, something nefarious in his tone.

Dream shoves the last of his cone in, smiling open-mouthed at Sapnap, who makes a face and kicks sand at him. Soon sand and water are flying everywhere and George has been caught in the crossfire, ice cream cone soggy and covered in gritty sand. He joins in and they all battle each other, laughing and screaming until Sap tackles Dream into the water and they emerge soaking wet and huffing.

The three of them collapse into the sand to catch their breath. Dream looks to George on his right and Sapnap on his left, and he beams. This visit was going better than he ever could have expected.

After they catch their breath the three of them dust themselves off, pack up their towels and things, and pile in the car to head back to Dream’s. This time George takes the front seat, and the whole way home Dream can feel him sitting there. He tries his hardest to stay focused on driving but it’s like sitting next to a fire, feeling that heat searing your skin on one side while the other is completely cool.


	4. Feeling Sick of Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Sweet Tooth.

That evening the three of them order pizza for dinner and when it arrives it’s gone in less than 10 minutes. Afterwards they sprawl on Dream’s sofa, something meaningless playing on the television. George hauls Patches onto his lap and starts taking selfies with her. 

“Wow George, using my cat for clout huh,” Dream says. 

“I just want to see how long it takes the fans to identify your cat,” George grins, and he posts one of the pictures to Instagram.

He turns on his notifications and just as he sets down the phone it starts binging uncontrollably. Dream wheezes. He checks George’s insta on his own phone and entertains himself scrolling through the comments.

‘Is that Dream’s cat????’

‘OMG GOGY IN FLORIDA’

‘poggers’

‘how’s Florida treating you lol’

‘r u guys gonna stream soon’

‘This better not be another prank 😔😔😔’

‘God I wish I was that cat 🥵’

‘so cute ❤️❤️❤️’

Dream looks up at Sapnap and George, and seeing them completely occupied with their own phones, he screenshots George’s post. It’s too cute to not save, he reasons to himself.

They read some of the comments aloud, and George tweets that he is in fact in Florida, and that it is in fact Dream’s cat in the photo he posted. Dream thinks about it for a second and then he tweets a reply.

‘Gogy’s here in America and I didn’t even get to marry him first :(‘

He begins watching George to see his reaction. Dream sees George when George refreshes his Twitter, and savors the pink spreading across his cheeks. His head whips up and he looks at Dream like a deer in headlights. Dream smirks at George, who blushes even more deeply. 

Sapnap starts cackling, making George jump.

“Did you seriously post that?” He says to Dream, pointing at what can only be Dream’s reply to George’s post. Dream wheezes like a tea kettle.

“Dream, people are freaking out,” George whines, “You are such a drama queen.”

“I think the fans are right. You two really are gay for each other,” Sapnap says, and he sighs, “I’m just the third wheel.”

“I could be gay for you Sappitus Nappitus, you don’t know,” Dream says defensively.

“Oh yeah? Then come over here and give me a kiss.” Sapnap challenges. Dream gets up and goes over to him, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Sapnap giggles.

“See, you don’t know my life,” Dream says, returning to his comfortable spot on the couch.

“You’re still gay for George though.”

Dream wheezes again, trying to ignore the strange emotions coursing through his veins like electricity. They all go back to scrolling through their phones for a while longer, until George lets out a groan. 

“Ugh another night on the couch,” He complains, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’m sure your future husband would love to share,” Sap says, winking at Dream.

“Sapnap!” George screeches, tackling the other man and trying to noogie him. Sap tries desperately to squirm away from him. Then George tickles him and Sapnap squeals, swatting at George with his hands. Dream laughs and shakes his head.

“Dream help,” Sapnap chokes out, “Help! Please!”

“You are such a weakling,” Dream rolls his eyes, but he locks his arms around George’s waist and hauls him off of Sap anyways.

George stiffens immediately, and as Dream shifts his grip George’s shirt rides up and his hand slides against soft flesh. His vision goes pink with lust. 

All he wants is to slide that hand further up and press his lips to George’s neck. 

George squirming and letting out a low grumble of annoyance brings him out of his stupor, and he drops George on the couch like he’s scalding.

Dream puts on a half-hearted smile, “You guys are such dumbasses.”

Luckily Sapnap laughs, and George does too, albeit shakily. 

“George what was that? You looked like a starfish or something,” Sap snickers, sticking his arms out mockingly, and George blushes.

“At least I don’t squeal like a pig,” He mumbles, looking at Sapnap sideways.

Just like that Sap and George are back to bickering. Dream sighs in relief, taking a seat next to George. He watches them for a second, then clears his throat.

“George it’s fine if you don’t wanna sleep on the couch again. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep out here,” Dream says.

George scrunches up his nose, “I’m not going to take your bed Dream. It’s your house and I’m a guest.”

“I really don’t mind. I’ve slept in much worse places than my comfy couch,” Dream states. George gives him an affronted look.

“That should not be your way of deciding where to sleep. I’m not taking the bed, that’s final.” George says, and Dream gives up.

“Fine.”

“You’ll be fine George,” Sapnap says, waving a hand dismissively, “You’re young and spry.”

“I’m older than you and Dream!” George cries, offended.

“Oh yeah!” Sap exclaims with a shit-eating grin, “Well don’t feel too bad about that George. You dont look a day over 16!”

George kicks him and Sapnap yelps.

“Hey, cut that out both of you,” Dream scolds mockingly, and George pulls his leg back with a sheepish look.

Sapnap stands up, stretching and yawning, “Alright, I think I’m heading to bed.”

“‘Night Sap.”

“See you two lovebirds in the morning.”

George scoffs and Dream flips Sapnap off, much to his amusement.

“We should probably get some rest too,” Dream says, “Gotta make sure we’re rested for... whatever it is that we’re doing tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” George replies.

“Want help with the pullout?”

“Uh,” George chews his bottom lip, “No, I think I can manage.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll see you in the morning,” Dream says, waving gently. George waves back.

Dream gets ready for bed on autopilot, brain occupied with planning and thinking about the next day. He’s exhausted from the day and he’s sure that as soon as he hits the bed he’ll be out like a light. However, when he finally settles into the bed all he can think about is George.

Dream goes back through every second of contact he’s had with George since he’s gotten here. That first hug in the airport, the sensation of his hands on George’s skin when he’d helped him put on sunscreen, and the pure lust he’d felt when his hand had slid across George’s exposed stomach, their bodies pressed flush together.

He felt an unwanted warmth in his gut just at the memory of it. Dream immediately tries to shut down the train of thought, but he can’t help it when he drifts off to sleep, hugging a pillow to his body and wishing it felt as good as holding George.


	5. Hug All Ur Friends

Distantly, Dream hears what sounds like a voice.

“Clay,” The voice says, “Clay please wake up.”

Vaguely he registers hands on his shoulders, moving his body around. He groans, forcing his heavy eyelids open.

“Clay!” Sapnap says, shaking him vigorously.

“What?” Dream grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“You need to wake up!” Sapnap yells, “I have to leave.”

Dream bolts upright, “What? What’s wrong?”

Sapnap is loosely holding his phone in his hand, and in the low light Dream can see that he’s been crying.

“My grandma is dying,” Sapnap chokes out, sitting hard on Dream’s bed. Dream immediately grabs onto him, pulling him in for a hug. Sapnap silently cries onto Dream’s shoulder while Dream mumbles reassurances, gently patting his back.

When Sap calms down he pulls back, but Dream holds him at arm’s length.

“We’ll get you home Nick,” Dream tells him, and Sapnap nods, sniffling. Dream gets up and motions for Sap to follow him. When Sap gets up Dream puts a hand on his back, guiding him to a stool at the counter. He puts on a pan of water to boil, and sets out a couple of mugs with tea bags. Sapnap is silent except for the occasional sniffle.

“I’m going to go wake George,” Dream says, “That ok?”

Sap nods, wiping his eyes. Dream creeps to the living room. George is lying on the couch, carelessly sprawled across the pullout. Patches is curled up next to him, and Dream can’t help but feel a bit jealous. He shakes off the unwanted feeling and puts a hand on George’s shoulder, patting him gently.

“George, hey,” Dream says, “Gotta wake up.”

George whines, flailing limply. Dream laughs lightly, shaking him roughly. George groans, and his eyes flutter open. He stares hazily up at Dream, pouting.

“What’s going on?” George whimpers, swatting at Dream’s hand.

“Nick’s having a family emergency. He needs to head back to Texas,” Dream informs him gently.

“Shit,” George groans, “I’m up.”

George rolls over, putting his feet on the ground. Patches jumps up and runs like there’s a dog after her. Dream helps George get to his feet, and they turn, heading for the kitchen.

Dream goes to take the kettle off the stove. George embraces Sapnap, who wraps his arms around the other man gratefully. The tea steeps for a minute, then Dream brings the mugs over, setting two down in front of Sapnap and George. Sap gives him a grateful look and pulls out of the hug, picking up the mug and taking a sip.

“I’m going to get you tickets for the earliest flight I can,” Dream says, and Sapnap nods.

“Thanks,” He croaks, “Sorry.”

Dream frowns, “You dont have anything to apologize for.”

“I feel like I ruined our meet-up,” Sapnap says, sort of pitifully.

“No. Nothing is ruined,” George says, “It’s cut a bit shorter than we anticipated, but it’s still alright because we have plenty of time to meet up, and Nick, you only have so much time with your grandmother. You need to be there with her.”

Sapnap breaks down crying again. This time Dream rounds the counter and he and George both grab hold of him, trying to ground him. George gives Dream a worried look over Nick’s shoulder, and Dream puts a hand on his arm in reassurance.

Dream finds a ticket for a 3:00 flight back to Texas. It’s fairly early in the morning still, but Sap seems like he needs to do anything but sit with his thoughts. He heads off to the guest room to pack his things. Dream stays in the kitchen to make pancakes, and George goes to take a shower and get dressed.

They eat breakfast together, Dream checking the weather. Sapnap eats slowly, numbly, staring at his plate. George talks to Sapnap, but all he gets in response is hums and one word answers. He looks at Dream, silently asking what he should do. Dream shakes his head a little with a sad smile, and George eases off. 

Sapnap ports his luggage into the living room then settles in the middle of the couch, scrolling through his phone. Dream sits next to him, and Sapnap leans against him, giving him a tired smile. His eyes are puffy and he looks pale and sallow, but his smile and weight seem to lift a bit of a burden from Dream’s mind. It’s almost confirmation that Sapnap knows he can rely on him for support, and that he’ll do just that with everything that’s going on. Sometime later George wanders in, taking a seat on the opposite side of Sap, who rests his legs in George’s lap.

They remain that way until 12:00, when they start getting ready to head to the airport. George and Dream hoist Sap’s bags into the car while he makes one final check inside for any forgotten belongings. He comes out holding a charger, which he stuffs in a side pocket of his backpack. Dream goes to lock up, then the three of them pile into the car.

Halfway to the airport Sapnap gets a call from his sister, and he spends the rest of the ride talking with her on the phone.

“Hey, yeah I’m ok.”

“I’m driving to the airport right now. My flight is in an hour and a half.”

“Yes, I ate breakfast. Dream and George have been taking good care of me.”

“So you’ll be getting me at the airport right? Ok. Yeah, I get it. All right. I’ll see you when I land. Give everybody some love for me. Yeah I love you too. Bye.”

Sapnap sighs, as if relieved.

“That your sister?” Dream asks.

“Yeah. Just asking about the flight and stuff,” Sap says. He pauses for a second, then clears his throat, “So um. I know everything’s kind of been awful today but I just wanted to say thanks. You guys being here has made this a lot less disastrous than it might have been.”

“No problem dude,” Clay assures him, “We’re here for you any time.”

“You can call or text us any time you need us,” George adds, “We’ll do our best to answer.”

“Thanks guys.” Sapnap smiles hesitantly, pocketing his phone.

When they reach the airport Dream helps Sap get his luggage from the trunk while George stands nearby, hands in his pockets. Sapnap shoulders his bag and grabs his suitcase, and they set off for the airport entrance. At the doors they halt, Sap turning to look at Dream and George.

“Would you like us to come in with you?” George asks him. Sapnap shakes his head.

“I think it would be harder to say goodbye that way,” He says, frowning.

“Ok,” Dream says, wiping his hands on his shorts, “So... I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“I guess so,” Sapnap affirms. Dream motions for Sap to hug him, which the shorter man does gladly, patting him on the back. He squeezes him tightly once, then lets go, embracing George.

George gives Dream a look that says ‘get in here’, and stretches out one of his arms, an invitation. Dream wraps both of his arms around them and squeezes until George squeaks and Sap lets out a breathless laugh. Then they all let go and Dream gives Sapnap one last once over. He can see when Sap takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and starts for the doors.

“See you guys around,” Sapnap calls, waving over his shoulder.

“Come back soon!” Dream says, waving even though he knows that Sap won’t turn around.

“Have a safe flight!” George shouts, raising a hand in farewell. They wave until Sapnap is out of sight, though he doesn’t see it.

Alone, the two of them each let out a deep, sorrowful sigh. Dream looks at George and holds out his arms in an offer for a hug. George looks back at him for a second, as if debating whether or not to accept, then sinks into Dream’s arms. The look George gives him is pure exhaustion, and he aches at the feeling of George’s head resting on his chest. He buries his face in George’s hair, tightening his grip slightly.

It feels like ages until George pulls back from his arms. Dream is sorry to lose the comforting weight. Then George gives him one of his tender smiles, and Dream lets that comfort him instead.

On the car ride home they stay mostly silent, though Dream looks over once and notices George chewing on his bottom lip again in worry. His heart pangs.

“You okay, George?” 

“Yeah, just thinking about Nick. I hope he’ll be able to get some good time in with his grandma.” 

“Me too.”


	6. Pyjama Pants

When George and Dream get back from the airport Dream orders Chinese for the two of them while George settles on his couch. Dream goes to change the sheets in the guest room, which George will be taking now that Sapnap is back in Texas. Then Dream gets a glass of water and leans against the counter, watching George typing something on his phone, jaw clenched with what Dream can only assume is anxiety. He frowns, trying to think of anything to distract George from his worry.

“So uh... What should we do this afternoon?” Dream asks, relieved when George looks up at him, the tension bleeding from his face.

“Something that involves not thinking or moving,” George groans, tilting his head back against the sofa, “I’m still jet-lagged.” 

Dream snorts, “Ok Georgie. How about we watch something funny?” 

“Perfect.”

Dream closes all of the curtains, turns off the lights, and cues up a comedy, something light-hearted and slow-paced. George leans into the couch further, looking up at the screen, and Dream finds himself just watching the way George’s eyes flicker back and forth, taking in the movement and scenery. 

In the soft light of the television he looks so soft and beautiful, Dream just wants to lean over and... and... and what? This is his best friend, not a date, not a girlfriend. George sighs and throws his head back against the couch again, and Dream rips his eyes away as if he’s been staring at the sun too long. 

He pretends to have been watching the movie the entire time. He almost manages to start watching it too, but then he feels George’s eyes on him. Dream stops breathing. It takes all of his self-control not to look back at him. He hopes that George will look away, but George just stares and stares until Dream can’t take it any longer.

“I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my face, what is it?” Dream asks, turning at the same time, and George jumps out of his skin.

“It’s-“ George frowns, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “It’s nothing.”

Dream feels a flicker of worry go through him.

“It’s clearly something. Are you doing ok?” Dream demands, furrowing his brow.

“I’m doing alright,” George sighs in exasperation, “I suppose... It’s strange seeing you sat here next to me and knowing that you’re Dream. You’re the one I’ve been talking to all of this time. And you aren’t just some voice in my headset anymore. You’re real.”

Dream feels his heart sink, as if suddenly submerged in icy water.

“Does that bother you?” Dream says, hating hurt in his voice. George looks astounded.

“Of course not. Being able to sit here next to you is incredible. It’s all a bit difficult to believe is all.” George explains, smiling up at Dream comfortingly.

Dream’s heart skips a beat as their eyes meet. He feels his face stretch into a dopey smile without even thinking.

“It’s hard for me to believe too. It feels like I’m gonna wake up any second now and you’ll be an ocean away again. Having Sapnap gone makes it even harder to believe, since there’s nobody else around who can confirm I’m not dreaming,” Dream laughs.

“And if you are?” George asks teasingly.

“I don’t ever want to wake up.” Dream says, all too seriously. George looks at him, searching. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink, but he doesn’t try to hide or run.

“Me neither,” He admits. Dream feels like he’s supposed to do something, make some sort of move. He feels like he should kiss him.

No.

Wait.

Dream immediately starts panicking, and clears his throat, turning back to the movie as quickly as he can without being too weird. He sees George do the same out of the corner of his eye. He stares blankly at the screen, trying his best to look engaged, but all he can think about is how close George is, how he wants to kiss him, and how awful he is for thinking these things. George hadn’t consented whatsoever to being thought of like that. He would be horrified if he knew.

Dream could imagine what the look on George’s face would be if he had kissed him just now. Shock. Anger. Maybe even disgust. He would be taking advantage of George’s position. George didn’t have anywhere else to go, and it had been a long and emotional day. Even if he did reciprocate it would probably be out of some sort of obligation, or maybe fear of hurting Dream’s feelings. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for doing that to George.

Sick to his stomach, Dream tries and fails to refocus his attention on the movie, picking at a lose thread on his sweatpants. He can feel George’s eyes move to him again, and tries to ignore the burning sensation it sends to his cheeks. He pulls at the string harder, and it starts to unravel. He tugs harder, but it won’t come out any more. Dream yanks, the thread snaps, and he hits himself in the forehead lightly with the back of his hand.

George snickers, then claps a hand over his mouth. He looks guilty, but still amused. Dream scowls at him, but can’t help it when the corner of his mouth turns up.

“You think that’s funny Gogy? Laughing at my misery?” Dream says, feigning hurt.

“I’m not the idiot who’s ruining his clothes and smacking himself in the face at the same time,” George teases.

“You’re so mean George. You may look like an angel but you’re a devil deep down.” Dream says, giving him a look of mock disappointment.

George just ducks his head, face redder than Dream has ever seen it. He’s looking anywhere but into Dream’s eyes, and splutters out a small, “Shut up.”

Oh god he’s really done it now. Who even says shit like that? Not straight guys to their platonic guy best friends, he knows that much. Dream feels like he needs to run away before he does something stupid, something he won’t be able to take back.

“I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He tries not to bolt, feigning calm as he shuts the bathroom door. As soon as it’s shut he falls back against it, sinking to the floor and burying his face in his arms.

‘I need to figure this out before I do something I’ll regret.’

When had this started? The obvious answer was when George had stepped off of his plane and into Dream’s life, with his sweet disposition and delicate beauty. But that hadn’t been the start of the warm cheeks and racing heart every time he made George laugh or smile, the constant need to talk to George, texting and calling him at all hours just to know that George was thinking about him. He had thought that it was a bit odd, but figured it was just the heat of the summer and the general lack of social interaction in his life making him all squirrelly.

He’d had no reason to think that it was anything significant either. All the crushes and relationships he’s had have been with women. He’s always been able to appreciate attractive men, but he’s never really felt like being romantic or intimate with them. There are a few times he’s thought that maybe, just maybe there was a man he’d like to hook up with, but it was only in passing, and easily forgotten as an intrusive thought.

This though? He can already tell that this is much more. Dream doesn’t think that he’s ever felt like this, even with a woman. The intensity, the monumental self control it takes him to sit next to George and not just pull him close and never let go. When George so much as looks worried or upset Dream feels like his heart is being crushed in his chest. 

He isn’t just looking for a casual hookup with George either. In fact he can’t stomach the thought of it. Something so meaningless and fleeting, something that would just end in George leaving him again. Forgetting him, going on to find some girl who he’d spend the rest of his life with. Not that it won’t happen anyways. George is straight. Dream feels like he’s dying.

‘God,’ Dream thinks, ‘I’m such a fucking mess.’

‘I think I’m in love with George.’


	7. Trying

Well into his mental breakdown, Dream suddenly realizes that they have food coming and he has to leave the bathroom to get it. He takes a few deep breaths, splashes some cold water in his face, and fixes his hair. Then he stands straight, and heads out of the bathroom.

He returns to the couch. George smiles at him as he sits back down and Dream feels like he might just cry right then and there, but forces himself to smile back. He takes out his phone and pretends to be busy, but all he can think about is George, and how he can’t possibly survive these next few weeks alone with him.

When the Chinese arrives it’s a welcome excuse to flee the couch. Dream retrieves it and tips the delivery guy. He brings the food to the kitchen, dishing it onto a couple of plates. He hands one plate to George, who remains seated on the couch. Dream moves back to the kitchen and sets the other on the counter, settling onto a stool. 

Much to his horror, George comes to sit next to him, plate clattering gently on the counter as he takes his seat.

“Dream are you alright? You’re acting really strange,” George asks, and Dream wants to punch himself for making George worry.

“I’m fine,” He assures George, “I’m just really tired. We did wake up at like 5:00 in the morning.”

“Oh,” George says, and Dream can tell he’s unconvinced, “Ok.”

Dream finishes eating as quickly as possible, then gets up, dropping his plate in the sink. He thinks about doing the dishes, but the urge to escape wins out against his compulsion to be responsible. Now to act normal and say goodnight to George.

“So uh,” Dream turns towards George, not quite looking him in the eyes, “I’m really exhausted. I’m going to shower and head to bed. Feel free to watch stuff on the television or whatever you’d like to do. The guest bed is made up with fresh sheets, so when you’re ready your bed is all good.”

George sighs dejectedly, “Thanks Dream. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dream says, lying through his teeth, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ok,” George sounds small, and Dream hates himself for not comforting him, but he knows that he shouldn’t risk it. He turns his back to George, and step by heavy step Dream makes his way to his room, fetching pyjamas. Everything hurts.

Dream showers, the water cold and punishing on his skin. All he can think is George, George, George...

His chocolate brown eyes, his snowy skin that blooms into sunset pink with a wink or a well-timed compliment, and that soft, smooth skin that Dream just wants to press his lips to. A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his fist against the shower wall in a wave of self-loathing, instantly regretting it when pain shoots through it. 

Dream sits heavily, cradling his fist and hiding his eyes in elbow as the water runs over him.

When Dream finally gets up and turns off the water, he feels numb. He brushes his teeth, staring down his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his green eyes are prominent, his dirty blonde hair turned brown and frizzy by the moisture. He looks washed out. His knuckles are slightly bloody and already bruising where they hit the wall, and they sting even now.

Clean and prepped for bed he shuffles into his room, slamming the door behind him and crawling under his sheets. Dream curls into fetal position and squeezes his eyes shut, as if that will shut down his brain for good. Instead he finds himself rolling onto his back seconds later, wide awake and staring into the darkness until his eyes adjust and he can see the shadowy grey of his night-drenched white ceiling.

Dream cries now, laying alone in his bed. There are no sounds apart from his shaky breathing, and the tears stream steadily down his face. He wishes that he could have fallen for anyone else but George. Some nice person who would love him instantly and who didn’t torment him ceaselessly, who he wasn’t at risk of hurting through his inability to control himself. 

Dream cries harder, unable to stop the choked noises that begin to escape his chest. He knows deep down that he doesn’t want anyone but George. God knows if he’ll ever want anyone other than George. He feels like he’s been cracked wide open, and now his soul is pouring out of the gaps.

Dream cries until he’s too exhausted to hold his eyes open, and he slips into a fitful sleep.


	8. Please, Oh Please, Be Happy Because Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from So Much by Cavetown.

Dream’s brain is foggy when he wakes and his cheeks are sticky from his salty tears. His room is hot and muggy. He groans, peeling the sheets back, and staggers to the door, wrenching it open. The air outside of his room is much cooler and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He stumbles into the kitchen, getting a glass of water and chugging it. He checks the clock. 9:00 am. Looking around the house he sees that the TV is still on, little screensaver icon bouncing around the screen. Frowning, he cranes his neck and sees George on the couch, one limb hanging off.

Dream moves before he can stop himself, kneeling next to George and placing a hand on his shoulder. He hesitates slightly when he realizes that he’s touching George, but he shakes him gently nonetheless. George groans, head turning towards Dream slightly. His hair falls on his forehead. Dream brushes it away gently, like a reflex, and George’s eyes flutter open. Dream freezes, heart stuttering in his chest.

“Dream?” George questions groggily, blinking a few times.

“Hey George,” Clay says fondly, “What’re you doing out here on the couch?”

“Guest room was too...” George pauses, brow scrunched as he tries to come up with the word, “All alone.”

“Lonely Georgie?” Dream teases.

“Mmmhm,” George hums, shutting his eyes again. Within seconds he’s out cold. Dream watches his body relax, his breathing slowing. He lets go of George’s shoulder, trailing his fingers over the soft material of his shirt. He wants nothing more than to press a kiss to George’s forehead, the crook of his neck, or the pale inside of his slender wrists, but he gets up and heads for the kitchen.

Dream busies himself washing dishes, putting some toast in the toaster, feeding Patches, and thinking up activities for him and George to do that won’t absolutely kill him. When his toast pops out he butters it, then sits at the counter. He scrolls through his phone, checking Twitter and liking some tweets from his friends and fans. He knows that it’s early, but he wagers that Nick will be awake regardless:

Dre: Hey, holding up alright?

Sappitus Nappitus: Hey man  
Pretty exhausted but I wanted to go see my grandma as soon as possible  
My mom’s driving me and my sisters to the nursing home now

Dre: That’s good. Glad you’re going to be able to get some time with her.

Sappitus Nappitus: Me too  
How are you and George?

Dream lets out a bitter laugh. He wishes he could tell Sapnap the truth, but it probably wouldn’t go over well between Sap’s own issues and Sap’s relationship with George. He’d probably be as uncomfortable as George would be. So he lies.

Dre: We’re fine. George did end up sleeping on the couch again even though the guest room was clear. I woke him up but he just whined about being lonely and passed out again lmao

Sappitus Nappitus: Aw, poor guy  
Maybe you should share your bed after all

Dre: Yeah right. George wouldn’t want that.

Sappitus Nappitus: But you would?

Dream’s heart stops. He can feel his breath quickening as he begins to panic. He feels like slamming his fist into something again, but his knuckles throb under the bandages, a gentle reminder.

Dre: Don’t even go there.

Sappitus Nappitus: Come on Clay  
I see the way you act around him

Dre: You mean the flirting? I flirt with everyone, you know that.

Sappitus Nappitus: Yeah, you don’t act like you’re in pain every time you touch me, or every time Fundy flirts with you  
Only George gets that kind of reaction from you

Dre: So? I’m just meeting George for the first time, it’s not weird that I’d act different with him.

Sappitus Nappitus: I know that it’s totally cheeseball but  
You really do look at him like he’s some sort of fucking masterpiece  
Every time you touch him you freak out

Dre: I’m not talking about this rn. Hope you have a good visit. Text me if you need anything.

Dream turns off his notifications, setting his phone aside. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, dropping his head against the counter. It seems that Sapnap is more than ok talking about his feelings towards George. More ok than Dream is for sure.

“Morning,” George’s voice comes from behind him and Dream jumps. He spins around and sees George standing there, clothes wrinkled, one hand raised to cover his yawn. When he looks up at Dream he snorts in laughter, “What did you do to your hair?”

Before Dream can answer George is stepping towards him, raising a hand. He combs his fingers through Dream’s (evidently messy) hair, and his entire body breaks out in shivers. Dream closes his eyes, reveling in the way George’s fingers brush gently across his scalp, sending chill after chill down his spine. His chest aches for him to reach out and pull George closer, but he keeps his eyes shut and his twitching hands at his sides.

When George pulls back, Dream feels icy disappointment creep through his ribcage. When Dream looks up to meet his eyes George smiles sweetly, but instead of soothing the ache it feels like a thousand needles are suddenly filling his lungs. It’s all he can do not to cry. He clears his throat.

“Sleep well?”

“Haha no, your couch is the worst.”

“The guest room is just down the hall.”

“Yeah I know,” George says sheepishly, “It felt too strange to take the room. Sapnap was there just yesterday. It felt so... empty.”

Dream hums in agreement, “I can help you with the pullout tonight if you’d like.”

“That would be very kind of you,” George says, “Thanks Dream.”

George is smiling at him again, and the needles prick his lungs viciously. He gulps.

“No problem,” Dream responds hoarsely, “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Sure.”

Dream makes George eggs like he had the first day of their visit. While he waits for the eggs to cook he checks his phone again, this time to look at the weather. When he sees the forecast his jaw drops.

“Shit.”

George looks up at him immediately, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a tropical storm incoming.”


	9. Irrational

“Ok George, here’s the plan for today,” Dream says, sliding a notepad across the counter, “We need to be ready for the storm.”

“‘Get groceries’,” George reads aloud, “‘Set out candles’, ‘Prep emergency kits’, ‘Get Patches’ kennel’, ‘Prep to evacuate’.”

At this last one George looks up, “Do you think we’ll have to evacuate?”

“Probably not but we have to be ready for anything,” Dream tells him.

“Ok,” George smiles, “I trust you to protect me no matter what, Dream.”

Dream feels an odd surge of pride alongside being flustered at George’s words. 

“Of course I will,” Dream says softly. He looks George in his warm, doe-brown eyes and all he sees in tenderness and contentment reflected back at him. It’s too much, like a too-rich chocolate cake, and Dream forces himself to refocus before he becomes overwhelmed.

“So we should head to the store as soon as possible,” Dream says, studying the counter, “People are going to be making a run on it.”

“Ok,” George responds, getting to his feet, “Let’s get dressed and head out.”

George heads to the guest room to change and Dream heads to his room. He pulls on a black sweatshirt with his iconic smile printed across the front, a pair of black shorts with white stripes down the sides, some socks and a pair of slides. He grabs a baseball cap and sunglasses for the store, knowing he should be somewhat disguised while in public with George.

George is wearing some shorts, a blue t-shirt, and a pair of low-top sneakers, sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. He looks like a cute tourist. Dream stares a little too long until George shifts uncomfortably. He scolds himself in his brain, then snatches his car keys from their little dish on the end of the counter.

“Ready?” He asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” George responds. Together they step out the door and into the increasingly cloudy weather.

The drive to the store is largely uneventful. They listen to some of George’s music, including one song that George can’t seem stop giggling about. The laughter sends a pleasant, tingling warmth to his cheeks. Dream thinks the song has something to do with a fan fiction, and he has to admit that if that fan fiction gave off anywhere near the same emotion as the song, it would hit far too close to home.

The store is overrun. It takes 6 minutes to find a parking spot, and when they do an aggravated driver honks and flips them off, making George flinch violently. Dream wheezes.

“Americans are so aggressive,” George complains. Dream rolls his eyes.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen videos of British people losing it,” He says, giving George a superior look.

“Whatever,” George scoffs.

They head into the store and Dream resists the urge to reach out and grab George when he sees the churn of bodies inside. Dream grabs a shopping cart from a nearby rack, looking back to make sure George won’t get swept away. The Brit looks almost frightened by the number of people, and Dream can tell he’s on the verge of panic. Overcome by the urge to protect, he finally grabs hold of George, pulling him over to the cart. 

“Hold on to the cart!” He shouts over the roar of foot-traffic in the store. George nods gratefully, clutching the handlebar with white knuckles. Dream positions himself in front of the cart and begins leading George through the crowd.

They pick up toilet paper, paper towels, water bottles, canned foods, bread, crackers, bandaids, disinfectant, batteries, and other supplies. The cart fills quickly, and soon enough he and George are fighting their way to the checkout. Standing in the checkout line, Clay watches George, who admires all of the candy and balloons clustered around the cash register. 

The cashier, a good-looking guy with dark hair and perfect, straight teeth seems to be noticing George in much the same way. Dream can’t help the angry possessiveness that boils to the surface. He clamps it down bitterly. It’s no business of his really. He has no claim on George. 

When it’s their turn to unload the cart, Dream unceremoniously dumps everything on the conveyor belt, dragging the shopping cart and George towards him. George gives him a confused look, but Dream pretends not to see. George and Dream move down the line to start fetching the bags and the cashier clears his throat.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks, peering at George over the register.

“Uh, maybe?” George says, “I’m a streamer.”

“Hmmm,” The guy hums, then shrugs, “I don’t really watch streamers, but maybe that’s it.”

Dream clenches his jaw, trying his best to keep his gnawing jealousy at bay. His brain of course remains in overdrive, but he and George transfer the bags into their cart. He pays, and the cashier moves on to the next person without another glance. Dream breathes a sigh of relief as they leave the store. They load the bags into the car then set off for Dream’s house.

“It was really crowded,” George remarks, and Dream nods.

“Gotta be prepared when you’ve got a tropical storm heading your way,” He says plainly.

“So what next?” George asks.

“We’re gonna check that we’ve got our emergency kits and procedures all lined up, set up the bathroom for Patches, then settle in and keep an eye on the weather,” Dream lists off, George nodding along.

They store the groceries then do just that, setting out candles as well. Dream cooks up a bunch of food, using up as much of his produce and meats as possible in a stir fry and a couple of other dishes. George wants to talk to his family, so Dream decides to go work on ideas for new videos. He has to decide what he wants to do with the next manhunt, do some script-writing for the SMP, and there are a few other videos he needs to plan and record. Through his headphones he can hear the wind whipping up more and more strongly as he works.


	10. On Summer Nights The Stars Fall A Little Slower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Rocket Ships by Cavetown.

Around 5:00 he hears a knock at his door, and George steps into the room. Dream pulls off his headphones, spinning his chair around towards him. 

“What’s up?” Dream asks.

“Want to play some Minecraft? I’m in the mood for some vanilla survival,” George says.

“Sure.”

“Let me get my laptop.”

George leaves briefly, then returns, computer and charger in hand. He sets them on the bed, then shimmies onto the bed, plugging the charger into an available outlet. He leans up against the headboard, opening up his laptop.

“Are we starting a new world or playing on an old one?” Dream asks.

“Let’s start a new one. You do it,” George instructs, and Dream mock salutes him.

“Aye aye captain.”

They start out in a plains biome, and decide to explore a bit. Each of them collect some wood from a nearby forest, getting basic tools. They explore, traveling thousands of blocks before they find a valley, full of flowers and trees. This is where they decide to set up base. 

Dream mines while George collects building materials. He builds them a small base and a farm, as well as collects animals. Dream provides him with armor and tools.

When Dream puts his bed down in the base, he comes back to find another bed right beside his, blue-dyed. George’s bed, evidently. Dream smiles, feeling a bit wobbly. He is so whipped.

They keep playing for another hour, and they manage to make a few trips to the nether before Dream’s stomach growls, signifying that it’s time to sign off. 

“Alright I’m going to get some food,” Dream says to George, “Want anything?”

“Yes please,” George says, stretching his arms over his head. Dream watches him for a second, then nods, heading for the kitchen.

He heats up two plates of stir-fry in the microwave. While he’s in the kitchen he sets out food for Patches. His stomach growls at the smell of food. When the microwave beeps he eagerly pulls out the plates, heading straight for his bedroom.

Back in his room, George takes the plate from him and digs into his food gratefully with a little moan. Dream’s fingers twitch as his mind takes a brief dive into the gutter. He sneers at himself.

Dream realizes all at once that George is sitting in his bed, the place where not even 24 hours ago he’d been dreaming about holding him in his arms. He thinks that if George wasn’t holding that plate right now it would be all he could do not to climb in with him, maybe push him down into the sheets and pin those slender wrists above his head, kiss him until he can’t breathe. Dream violently shakes his head as if to send the thoughts flying from his brain.

“You look like a wet dog,” George teases. Dream’s embarrassment amplifies.

“Sorry I’ve just been having trouble thinking clearly,” He says in false nonchalance.

“You can think?” George asks. Dream pouts. He giggles, taking another bite of his food, and Dream can’t help the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

Dream sits at his desk to eat, and he scarfs it down like he hasn’t had a meal in weeks. When George finishes eating with his careful, delicate bites,  
Dream takes his plate. Their fingers brush and Dream fumbles the plate, causing his face to burn with warmth. Luckily George doesn’t seem to catch on, reclining onto Dream’s bed and pulling out his phone. Dream stands for a second, mind racing because George is in his bed. He shakes his head again and heads for the kitchen.

When he returns George looks up at him and smiles, patting the bed beside him. Dream freezes for a second, conflicted. If he joins George on the bed there’s no way to know if he’ll lose control. Then again, if he doesn’t George will feel awkward. He really only has two options:

A. Stay off the bed and risk George seeing his weird behavior and questioning him. 

B. Get on the bed and try to keep himself in check.

Neither of them are particularly pleasant choices, but Dream thinks he’ll have to take the latter. If he needs to get up and get away he can excuse himself to the bathroom like he did the night before, he reasons. So, he moves stiffly to the bed and sits down, a solid two feet between him and George.

Just as his hands make contact with the fabric of his bedsheets, the room goes dark. George gasps aloud next to him, and Dream feels a delicate hand grasp his shirt. He jumps at the contact, his hand unconsciously clasping over George’s.

“What’s going on?” George asks, the anxiety in his voice evident. Dream grips his hand tighter.

“It’s a power outage. A power line must have been downed,” Dream says, voice huskier than he means it to be. He clears his throat. 

“Stay calm, George. This is what we have candles and flashlights for.”

He makes to get up and retrieve candles, but George’s grip on his shirt tightens, and another hand is added, pulling him back down onto the bed. His stomach swoops like he’s on a roller coaster.

“Please,” George begs, and Dream’s stomach swoops again, “Don’t leave me alone.”

Dream swallows thickly. His heart is fluttering in his chest, and George’s hands burn through his shirt. He reaches out, finding George’s shoulder, and slides his hand up, cupping his face gently. Dream’s heart aches.

“I promise I’m not going for long George. I’m just going to get some candles and then I’ll come right back.”

George lets out a noise like a whimper, and Dream relents, sinking fully onto the bed.

“George it’s ok. Just a blackout,” He reassures.

“I know- I mean- Dream- I’m sorry,” George says defeatedly.

“It’s alright,” Dream says, resting his hand on top of George’s. His head is spinning with the effort it takes to not pull George into his lap.

“Uh,” George seems to remember himself, and his hands slip away from Dream, who chases them without thinking, hands clamping around George’s slender wrists. George freezes. His heart rate spikes.

“Can I get the candles or do you need me to stay?” He asks, voice rough again. He curses his traitorous vocal chords.

“You uh- Can get the candles. It will be better with the candles,” George says. Dream gets up, pulling his phone out and turning on the flashlight. 

He makes his way to the living room, where candles are clustered on the coffee table. Patches is hiding underneath it, and he coos at her. He balances the candles and his phone in one arm, pockets his lighter, and scoops her up in the other, cradling her to his chest. He carefully walks back to his room, and he deposits Patches on the bed. In the edge of the flashlight beam he sees George pick her up, murmuring to her in his baby voice.

Dream sets the candles on his shelf and desk, fishing out the lighter and lighting them. The room is much lighter now and Dream sees George softly illuminated, resplendent in their glow. His irises are dark but his eyes shine with the flickering flames. His face is soft and flushed. He looks so kissable. Dream hates himself for thinking so.

He sits back down on the bed, even more statue-like than before. 

If George touches me now I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from closing the distance.

Luckily George has an armful of cat, so Dream allows himself to relax, back against the headboard.

“What now?” George asks, chewing on his bottom lip again as he strokes Patches’ fur. Dream frowns.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” He says, then mentally slaps himself. 

Nice one Clay, he thinks, way to tell George you’ve been staring at his lips.

“Stop doing what?” George says, looking perplexed and somewhat affronted.

“Chewing on your lips. You’re going to make yourself bleed,” Dream says reluctantly.

“Oh,” George says, touching his fingertips to his lips, “I didn’t realize.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment. Patches wriggles out of George’s arms, darting out of the room. Dream feels himself starting to sweat, the air conditioning having gone out with the lights. He can already tell it’s going to be a miserable night.

“Dream?” George asks, sounding shy. Dream can tell he’s biting his lip again without looking. “Can I stay in here tonight?”

Dream’s mind goes blank with panic. Vaguely, in the corners of his mind, he hears that George hasn’t stopped talking, but he can’t comprehend any of it. All he can think of is George’s body pressed against his, leaning down to capture George’s lips, the little sighs and moans that George would make as Dream pressed him back into the sheets.

He jumps. George’s hand is on his shoulder. He whips his head around, and George’s face is much closer than he expects. Dream stops breathing. George giggles nervously.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” George says, looking sideways as if too anxious to meet Dream’s eyes. His hand is still on his shoulder, burning like a brand.

Dream’s voice cracks hoarsely as he says, “George.”

Oh god he’s going to cry over nothing isn’t he.

“Dream?” George asks, his face a paradigm of uncertainty.

“I-“ Dream chokes. He has to get himself under control. He takes a deep breath.

“No, I’m good dude. Of course you can stay in here. It’s safer to stick together anyways.”

George smiles hesitantly, and his hand finally leaves Dream’s shoulder. It’s like a ton of bricks has been lifted from his chest, his lungs drinking in the air that so steadily flows into him now. The satisfaction of air is only second to the disappointment he feels, however.

“Thanks,” George says brightly. Not even a raging, blackened storm can dim the light of his happiness, Dream thinks.

“No problem. Do you want to get your stuff and move it in here or...?”

“Honestly I don’t really want to go anywhere right now. The storm is stressing me out.”

“Ok. So uh, what should we do? Power’s out so I think Minecraft is out of the question.”

“I have some movies downloaded on my laptop. We could watch one of those, it doesn’t require WiFi or anything.”

“Sure. Show me what you’ve got.”

George scrolls through his downloaded movies, Dream peering over his shoulder while remaining as far away as possible.

“I downloaded most of these for when I visit my grandparents. Some of them are there for my little cousins.”

Dream sees Despicable Me, Mary Poppins, The Fox and the Hound, and other such childhood movies. He smiles thinking about George being forced to watch the same few movies over and over again by his tiny, squeaky cousins. He wonders how George is with kids. He’d like to see someday. Dream spots one particular movie.

“Ooh, lets watch The Princess Bride,” Dream says, pointing at the thumbnail on the screen.

“Alright,” George clicks on it, then positions the laptop at the end of the bed and pressing play. He leans back against the headboard, shoulder pressing against Dream’s. Dream shivers at the contact, hoping that George doesn’t notice.

His body is unbearably warm where George is pressed against him, but he finds himself savoring it. Luckily the movie is engaging enough to keep him distracted. Here in his dark bedroom, the wind whistling outside, rain drumming on his roof, Dream’s mind finally slows to a crawl. He hasn’t realized just how fast it’s been racing since Sapnap left. It’s soothing, like cough syrup on a rough throat.

Some time later, Dream feels more weight pressing into his side. He turns to look at George just as the shorter man’s head falls on his shoulder. Dream goes rigid. The movie keeps playing, but Dream’s eyes are fixed on George’s sleeping face.

He doesn’t know how long he stares, but eventually he realizes how uncomfortable the angle that George’s neck is at must be. Without really thinking about it he slips his arm under George’s back and slides him down so that his head rests on one of Dream’s pillows. Dream shuts the laptop with his foot, then gets up to blow out the candles. 

He settles back onto the bed, lying on his back, hands clasped over his stomach. Dream can feel George’s weight pulling down the mattress next to him. He longs to roll over, bring George’s lithe body against his and bury his face in George’s hair.

He can imagine trailing his fingers across George’s skin, pressing his lips to the column of George’s throat to elicit a sleepy murmur. George makes a little noise next to him in time with this train of thought, and Dream’s brain short circuits. Now he’s rolling over, his hands sliding across George’s waist and stomach as he finally, finally drags the man towards him, slotting their bodies together.

The shudder of relief that goes through him is violent and unexpected, making him exhale shakily. His trembling hand rests on George’s stomach, and his face is buried in the back of George’s head. He breathes in a faintly sweet scent that he can’t quite place.

George’s breathing is deep and steady, and it relaxes him immediately. His body fits perfectly in Dream’s arms, and he lets out a pleased hum at the thought. He knows that in reality he should let go. George didn’t even know that Dream was holding him like this. He would probably be extremely uncomfortable.

George wriggles in his arms, letting out a contented murmur. Dream’s heart pangs. He can’t bring himself to move away from George. Dream decides to pretend that they’d ended up like this in their sleep. 

He closes his eyes, nuzzling into George’s hair. The wind howls outside, but all he can focus on is the faint whistling of air in and out of George’s lungs. Sleep comes quickly.


	11. You’re The Flowers On My Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Wishing Well by Cavetown ft. Drew Monson.

There’s a pleasant weight against his body. He looks down and his breath catches in his throat. George’s face is pressed into Dream’s chest. Dream smiles, feeling nothing but fondness. He presses a gentle kiss into George’s hair.

With that George stirs, nuzzling his face into Dream’s chest. He groans, and Dream watches his eyes flutter open. He tilts his head up to look at Dream and his face reddens when their eyes meet.

“Morning,” Dream grumbles. George looks away, his blush darkening. One of his hands clutches Dream’s shirt. He stays silent, and Dream could swear he’s trembling.

“George?” Dream questions, and George snaps his head up. His pupils are blown wide, and he keeps meeting Dream’s eyes only to glance away.

“What?” George croaks, and he’s biting his lips. Nervous, Dream muses.

He leans in closer, breath ghosting over George’s lips. George blushes, closing his eyes tightly. If Dream didn’t know any better, he would say that George looked turned on.

“You’re biting your lips again,” Dream whispers before kissing George firmly on the lips. George whines into the kiss, desperately grasping at Dream shirt with both hands. Dream rolls them over, pressing George into the mattress. He pulls back from the kiss.

“Clay-“ George huffs, then gasps when Dream presses his mouth to his throat, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin.

“You have no idea-“ Dream says as he continues trailing kisses down his neck, “What you’ve been doing to me.”

George’s nails dig into his bare back, and Dream pulls back to grab his arms, pinning them above his head. George frowns, wriggling half heartedly in his grip. Dream rests his forehead against George’s.

“George,” Dream says, voice breaking slightly, “I love you.”

George’s face softens. His eyes look like melted chocolate. He smiles so sweetly.

“I love you too.”

•••  
Dream’s eyes snap open. The room is dark and stifling, and his body is sticky with sweat. George is sprawled across the bed, Dream’s arm draped over his waist. He looks perturbed, and his skin glistens lightly in the low glow that slips through the blinds.

It was a dream.

Dream’s heart shatters. He lets out a choked whimper. He presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, like maybe he can force his oncoming tears to stay where they are. The darkness of his eyelids swims with whorls of grey, blue and yellow pixels dancing across the void. The pressure does nothing to stop his tears and his palms come away wet. His eyes still swim as he blinks. When his vision clears, he meets brown eyes.

“Dream?” George’s voice is laden with sleep and concern.

‘Oh no’, Dream thinks, ‘No no no’.

He tries to roll away, but George stays him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dream flinches so hard he thinks he may have pulled a muscle. He claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the wrecked sob that leaps from a throat.

George sits up next to him, hand clasping more firmly on Dream’s shoulder. 

“Dream, what’s wrong?” George asks, voice almost panicked.

Dream sniffles, chest hiccuping as he tries to collect himself.

“No- Nothing,” He manages to get out.

“I know it’s something,” George says gently, “Please just talk to me.”

His voice is so calm, Dream latches onto it in his mind. He takes a few deep breaths and the tears slow to a stop, just leaving him with the hiccups.

“George,” He says weakly. His hand finds George’s on his shoulder, and he clutches at it like it’s a valuable treasure. He turns his head to look at George.

“I’m here,” George says, voice carefully soft. His eyes are so kind. Dream’s chest hurts.

“Sorry,” Dream grunts, gulping as he looks away, “Nightmare.”

Dream buries his face in his forearm, feeling the wet warmth of his tears on his skin. George lightly places a hand on his arm, and he shivers slightly as the pads of those slender fingers trace the flesh. Dream can’t bring himself to look at George. If he does he’ll come undone.

“It’s ok,” George murmurs, “It wasn’t real.”

‘No, it wasn’t,’ his mind reminds him mournfully. It feels like he’s been punched. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I know,” He says tearfully. He still can’t manage to look at George. 

‘Please just remove your hand,’ He begs silently.

Instead George’s hand slides down to rest on his chest, and he feels a solid weight press down on him. He removes his arm and glances down to see George’s head and upper body resting on his chest and stomach in an awkward sort of hug. Dream loses his breath.

He can’t think or move. Everything stops. He’s just staring, hyperfocusing on the warmth, the weight, how George’s breath puffs softly against his chest through his shirt. Just like his dream. Better than his dream.

Dream wants to curl in on himself so badly now, but he won’t move as long as George stays on his chest. So rigidly, Dream brings his arms down, holding them up over George’s back. Reluctantly, he rests his arms on George, and he lets out a deep, sorrowful sigh at how perfect it feels.

George scoots up more, nuzzling his head into the crook of Dream’s neck, and fuck he’s turned on. His grip on George tightens slightly, and he grimaces at the unwanted twinge in his belly. Luckily George doesn’t seem to notice, instead moving in closer, breath dancing across Dream’s throat. Dream wants so badly to pull him up just a few more inches and finally press their lips together. He doesn’t.

Dream keeps laying there. His unfortunate horniness doesn’t subside, but it’s slowly drowned out as he succumbs to exhaustion once more. It’s not long before he passes out, drifting back into feverish sleep.


	12. As Selfish As It Is, I Need It For My Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Advice by Cavetown.

The next time he wakes up George is gone. He’s so empty. George’s absence hurts almost as much as his presence. Dream scoffs to himself. No one ever told him that love could hurt so much. He knew that it was never easy, but he’d always thought of the pain in different contexts.

Dream knew that it could hurt being apart from the one you love, or it could hurt to not receive as much love as you give. He didn’t know that loving itself could hurt so badly. He had no idea that he’d be in for hour after hour, day after day of excruciating pain.

He wonders if it’ll stop once George heads back to England. Probably not. It’ll probably get much, much worse. Dream can’t even imagine what that will feel like. He’s not sure if he could survive it either.

Pushing the dismal thoughts from his brain, Dream rolls over, stumbling slightly as he gets up. He groans, stretching to try to relieve the slight pain in his neck from sleep. He grabs his phone. Dream lumbers to the kitchen, checking the clock on his microwave first thing. It’s 11:00 in the morning. He scrubs his hand down his face. He has got to get his act together.

Distantly he can hear the shower running, pipes making faint rushing sounds in the walls. He purposefully tiptoes around the idea of George naked, just a couple walls away from him. He calls out to Patches, who darts into the kitchen at the promise of food.

Dream sets her food dish down on the floor and crouches, running a hand along her back.

“Hey baby,” He says softly, listening to the little clinking noises of her food against the tiny metal bowl, “I’m sorry I haven’t been as attentive recently.”

She pauses from eating, turning to look at him and mewing. He snorts softly, ruffling the fur on her head. Then he stands, stretching his arms above his head. He picks up his phone off the kitchen counter, checking his messages. 

He panics when he sees a half dozen missed messages from Sapnap, all from the day before. He opens them up. Thankfully, scanning them he sees no mention of his grandma.

Sappitus Nappitus: Dude, it’s not a big deal

Sappitus Nappitus: Dream?

Sappitus Nappitus: Man I’m sorry if I pushed too far

Sappitus Nappitus: Please respond, I’m worried about you

Sappitus Nappitus: Ok, I get that it’s a sensitive topic but I feel like I have to say this  
You and George are going to happen one way or another, and when you get together I hope you remember that I told you so

Sappitus Nappitus: And also that I’m your best friend as well, so you guys can’t forget about me, ok?

Sappitus Nappitus: Love you man

Dream desperately wants to believe that what Sap is saying to him is true. He wants to but all he can think is that he’s being set up for the heartbreak of a lifetime. The universe wants him to believe there’s hope, only for him to be mercilessly crushed by his hubris, his idiotic belief in his own indestructibility and entitlement like the Greek heroes of old.

He also feels guilty. Sapnap was only trying to be there for him, even if he was annoyingly plain-spoken about it. Tapping his foot absently, Dream thinks for a second before beginning to type.

Dre: Hey.

It’s not much, but it’ll do. He sighs, turning his phone over and staring at his bandaged hand. He trails a thumb over it, pressing down with his thumb, and he hisses at the stinging pain it causes. Dream shakes his hand out. His phone dings.

Sappitus Nappitus: Hey

Dre: Sorry about yesterday.

Sappitus Nappitus: It’s cool dude  
I get that feelings are hard to deal with sometimes

He hesitates for a second, then lets out a deep sigh.

Dre: You’re right. I do have feelings for George. Honestly it hurts.

Sappitus Nappitus: Shit, yeah

Sappitus Nappitus: I’m sorry dude

Sappitus Nappitus: Do you want to vent about it?

Dre: Yes please. I feel like I’m going crazy.

Sappitus Nappitus: You wanna call or?

Dre: No. Can’t risk George overhearing.

Sappitus Nappitus: Ok  
Well vent away

Dream sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He drums his fingertips on the countertop, thinking. If he opens up about this there will be no going back. But at the same time he can already feel the weight on his shoulders lifting.

Dre: I’m in love with George.

Dre: God.

Dre: I haven’t admitted that to anyone.

Sappitus Nappitus: How does that make you feel?

Dre: Relieved, I guess.

He pauses briefly. The relief he feels is no small thing, but at the same time he continues to be weighed down by his worries and longing. He only hopes that by the end of this conversation even that may be lessened.

Dre: But yeah, I’m in love with George. I don’t know how or why honestly. I thought I was straight up until recently.

Dre: Somehow though, George just wormed his way into my heart and now I have zero idea what to do. 

Dre: Just being in the same room as him is torture. All I can think about is how badly I want him.

Dre: That sounds weird and creepy. I don’t just mean his body or anything. I want every part of him, the good and bad, body and mind. I just want George.

Dre: Last night I dreamt that I finally kissed him and when I woke up I had a fucking mental breakdown. Then George woke up and tried to comfort me but honestly it hurt just as bad when he hugged me as it did waking up.

Dre: Also I punched the wall the other night because I couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

Dre: So.

Dre: Yeah.

Dream watches as the typing bubble pops up, disappears, then pops up again. He taps his index finger on the counter again anxiously.

Sappitus Nappitus: Wow

Sappitus Nappitus: Wait did you and George share a bed last night?

Dre: ...Yes.

Sappitus Nappitus: Oh my god

Sappitus Nappitus: I want to be excited but I’m also extremely worried  
You didn’t break your hand did you?

Dre: No. It’s fine, just a bit tender.

Sappitus Nappitus: Good? I think???  
If you broke your hand just because you’re a pining idiot I’d kill you

Dre: Ok mom.

Sappitus Nappitus: All jokes aside dude you should really be more careful  
You holding up ok otherwise?

Dream sighs sorrowfully.

Dre: No, not really.

Sappitus Nappitus: Is there anything I can do?

Dre: Not really. Except listen, I guess.

Sappitus Nappitus: Ok. I’m all ears.

Dre: I don’t think I can keep this up.

Dre: I can’t keep living in such close proximity to George.

Dre: One of these times I’m not going to be able to check myself and I’m going to kiss him and he’s going to hate me.

Sappitus Nappitus: Dude :(  
George is never going to hate you

Dream’s fist clenches.

Dre: Don’t lie to make me feel better, Nick. It hurts enough already.

Sappitus Nappitus: Oh come one dude  
George isn’t like that 

Dre: How could you possibly know?

Sappitus Nappitus: George is a nice guy  
He would never hate you for something that you can’t change

Sappitus Nappitus: George might need some time and space but he won’t stop being your friend Clay

Sappitus Nappitus: And how do you know he won’t return your feelings?  
I don’t know if you’ve noticed but whenever you two get together everyone else becomes a third wheel

Dre: I can’t risk him not returning my feelings Nick. 

He can feel tears welling up in his eyes at the thought. He can’t believe how much he’s cried recently. It’s natural of course, but he can’t help feeling ashamed that he’s so out of control.

Dre: I think it would kill me.

Sap doesn’t respond for more than a minute. Dream puts his phone down, head in his hands. When his phone buzzes again, he almost doesn’t pick it up again. He has no idea what Nick is going to say, but he’s fairly certain that he won’t like it.

Sappitus Nappitus: That’s not healthy Clay.  
Neither is punching the wall, honestly.

Sappitus Nappitus: I think you need to talk with someone about this professionally.

Fuck.

Dream lets out a shuddering breath. He knows that Sapnap is right. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. Dream rubs at his temple.

Dre: I know.

In a sudden fit of cowardice, he switches off his notifications. He can’t face Sap right now.

“Dream?” 

Panic. Pure unadultered panic. Next thing he knows he’s hitting the kitchen floor. He just lays there, stunned.

“Oh my god! Dream!”

George’s face appears above him, careful hands passing over his chest.

“Are you alright?”

Dream closes his eyes, focusing on the throbbing pain in his back and rear. Luckily he hasn’t hit his head. Unluckily, his insides hurt far more than his outsides.

“No,” He groans.

“Where does it hurt?” George sounds terrified. Dream’s heart throbs painfully.

“I’m fine, George,” Dream assures, sitting up slowly.

“You just said you weren’t alright!” George exclaims, accusatory. He looks distressed, his fist clutching a handful of Dream’s shirt.

“I’m fine physically,” Dream pulls away, rising to his feet somewhat uncomfortably. George comes up with him, and grabs his arm. His small hand clamps around Dream’s wrist. 

Dream stares down at George, breath catching in his throat. The look on George’s face is sweet and earnest. The corners of his eyes sting. Between them there’s less than a foot of torturous, smothering space.

“What’s wrong, Clay?” George says softly. Dream swallows hard.

“Just been feeling kind of down lately,” He says, casting his eyes downward. It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks, stroking a thumb across his wrist. Dream shivers slightly.

“No,” Dream states. George frowns, dissatisfied with the answer, but he decides not to press it.

“Can you at least tell me how this happened?” George asks, and he lifts Dream’s arm, gingerly shifting his grip to Dream’s bandaged hand. Dream purses his lips hesitantly.

“Punched a wall,” Dream mumbles. George frowns.

“Why?” He demands.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dream tells him. George nods reluctantly.

“I really do want to talk about this,” George says, “When you’re ready.”

“I promise I’ll talk to you about it sometime,” Dream swears, “Just not now.”

George sighs, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of Dream’s hand. The ache he feels at the gesture is unmistakable. He grips George’s hand lightly.


	13. Hold My Hand Tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Devil Town by Cavetown.

The day passes uneventfully. With the electricity back on, they watch TV, play more Minecraft, and Dream does some more video editing.

George is on call with Sap for a solid hour that afternoon, and Dream occasionally hears laughter through his headphones as he edits. He smiles. Sapnap’s grandma must be doing alright for now.

The storm continues raging outside, but it’s far better than it was the night before. Throughout the day they snack on the food Dream had made the day before. In the afternoon they make cookies.

Dream shifts uncomfortably watching George lick the batter from his fingers.

That evening they settle into Dream’s bed again, George seemingly without hesitation. He nestles into the sheets as if it’s his own bed. Dream is more reluctant, and as soon as he lays down he’s wide awake.

George moves around next to him, disrupting the mattress and blankets, and Dream hyperfocuses on every little disturbance. He can’t hear anything except for George’s rustling. Then George goes limp, letting out a soft sigh.

“Dream?” George whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Can we-“ George sounds nervous. It’s almost a certainty that he’s chewing on his lips, “Can we cuddle?”

Blood rushes through Dream’s ears so loudly that it deafens the wind and rain still screeching and roaring outside. He knows that his face is flushed and he feels his hands begin to sweat. He gulps anxiously.

Dream isn’t sure what he can do. He knows that George is waiting for an answer, but he has no idea what to say.

“I don’t- George I-,” Dream stutters. He takes a deep breath. In reality, holding George in his arms is all he could ever want. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t but- 

“Yes.” Dream says, his voice so full of want that he cringes. No way George didn’t hear that.

He rolls over onto his side, and comes face to face with George. Without hesitation the smaller man lifts Dream’s arm, pulling himself flush against Dream’s body. He drops his head, nuzzling into Dream’s chest, and lets out a sigh of what sounds like bliss.

Dream is sure that George can hear his heartbeat going out of control, but if he does he doesn’t make any comment. In fact, George is asleep so quickly it’s like he’s trying to speedrun the world record for passing out. He snorts lightly at the thought.

Now Dream is so wide awake that he feels like he’s chugged a big gulp full of coffee. Dream is intensely aware of how George’s body slots so well against his, the rise and fall of George’s chest, and how warm he is right now. He moves his arm down to fit in the dip of George’s waist, and his fingers accidentally brush against exposed skin.

Fuck. Dream is way too warm. He should not be turned on right now. He squirms uncomfortably, and George grabs onto him tighter, body rubbing against his in all the wrong places. Dream prays that whoever’s up there will kill him where he lays.

George lets out a little whimper in his sleep and mumbles something that he swears sounds like his name. Dream feels another wave of heat crash over him. The universe has got to be playing him. What bad fucking fanfic has he been cursed to live out now?

George moves again, his leg hitching over the top of Dream’s. Dream’s mouth goes dry. George is so close, too close. Overcome, Dream buries his face in George’s soft hair and inhales deeply, squeezing George for all he’s worth. There’s a little squeak, and he’s sure that he’s woken the smaller man.

He pulls back, and George blinks up at him hazily. He’s so cute. Dream kisses his forehead.

Oops.

George looks bewildered. Dream isn’t even sure he knows that he’s awake. His heart pounds like he’s run a million miles.

Then George leans up and kisses him on the lips, a light peck. Time slows. George pulls back, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a slight smile on his face. He blinks, then snuggles back into Dream’s chest and is out again, just like that.

Dream is no longer sure that he’s awake. There’s no way that could have happened. George wouldn’t just kiss him. He had to be dreaming.

He doesn’t want to stop dreaming. Here, right now, everything is absolutely perfect. He kisses the top of George’s head, happy tears slipping from his eyes.

Dream falls asleep cradling George like he’s made of glass, the most precious and delicate in the world.


	14. Noise In My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Noise In My Head is by Spookyghostboy but it’s from Animal Kingdom so... It counts.

He wakes in the middle of the night to a loud crash of thunder, and a shriek. Eyes shooting open and darting around the room, he finds that George is sitting bolt upright, chest heaving. Dream sits up next to him, putting a hand on George’s shoulder.

“George hey,” Dream murmurs, voice low and soft like he’s talking to a pet, “You’re ok, you’re safe.”

George immediately drops his head onto Dream’s shoulder, panting slightly as he tries to catch his breath. Dream threads his fingers through George’s hair. 

As George’s breathing slows, he becomes more limp against Dream, and it seems like he might be falling asleep again.

“I hate storms,” George says defeatedly. Dream feels concern slip over his face like a mask.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, hand stilling in George’s hair. Dream can tell that his face is flushed, and George is looking at him what Dream swears could be want.

“Distract me,” George demands. Dream recognizes the tone. A challenge.

“And how should I do that Georgie?” Dream asks breathlessly. 

“Please,” George whispers, “Kiss me.”

Dream does. He kisses George roughly. George gasps and Dream hauls the shorter man into his lap. He slides a hand up under George’s shirt, delighting in the way he trembles under his hands.

Dream pulls away and George makes a noise of complaint. His lips are swollen. Dream likes it way more than he should.

Everything is too perfect. There’s no way he’s awake right now.

“Fuck George,” Dream sighs, “Is this real?”

“I hope so,” George says, “I don’t know what I’ll do if it isn’t.”

“Me neither,” Dream confesses, “I’ve been dreaming about you George.”

“You have?” George asks softly.

“Of course,” Dream tells him, “Always.”  
•••  
He wakes up. The pain is beyond anything Dream has ever felt. He wants to tear his heart out of his chest and crush it with his fist.

George is still nestled in his arms, looking contented and peaceful. Dream wants to scream, but he doesn’t dare do anything that might wake George. He begins to cry, squeezing his eyes shut as he cradles George’s head to his chest. Dream rest his face on the top of George’s head, trying his best to repress the tears.

Of course it wasn’t real. How could it be real? His luck always had to run out some time. His destiny is and always has been to end up fucking miserable. 

Dream has always been one of the luckiest people he’s known. He’s been the best at anything he’s applied himself to, had his pick of people to date and befriend, and never struggled very heavily with mental health issues. He’s known that, and he’s known that inevitably his luck would run out.

He just hadn’t expected it to be so painful when it did. He would give anything, anything to look at George and see him look back with an ounce of the love that Dream was sure purveyed his face whenever he was in George’s presence. Sapnap had said that there was a good chance George liked him back, but there was nothing Dream had seen that could convince him it was true.

The feeling of George’s body against his is far too much all of the sudden. He pulls away as quickly as he, staggering to his feet like a drunkard. Dream makes a beeline for the restroom, slamming the door behind him and falling against it so hard that he hits his head, pain shooting through his skull. 

He bites down on the flesh of his hand, slamming the other hand against his knee as he tries not to scream. Hot tears are pouring down his face, and all he can hear is a horrendous ringing. His body shakes with the force of his sobs. Dream is unbearably hot, and he rips at his hair with his other hand.

He is so fucked. There’s no good way out of this. All that awaits him is heartbreak and solitude, a friendship forever tainted by obsession. Dream hates his foolish heart.

Dream cries and cries until he’s completely spent. He sits bonelessly against the door, removing his hand from his mouth. It comes away grossly wet with saliva, and he realizes carelessly that he’s broken the skin in a few places, blood pooling from the wounds. His knee and the side of his fist ache where he’s slammed them together.

His breath comes out in little stutters, and as they become further and further apart Dream feels himself slipping out of consciousness. Without noticing he slips into a dreamless void.


	15. Not Just Me In This Goddamn World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Dear by Cavetown.

He wakes with a start to a rapping sound and the door behind him vibrating slightly against his back. His neck hurts like a motherfucker. Dream groans rubbing his neck carefully, taking inventory of all his painful body parts.

“Dream are you in there?” George’s voice is muffled through the door. Dream wants nothing more than to pass out again, rather than face George and his monstrous feelings. Unfortunately if he doesn’t respond, George will flip out. He exhales heavily, then speaks up.

“Yeah. Be right out,” Dream pushes to his feet, flushing the toilet and washing his hands to make it seem that he hadn’t been in the bathroom for half the night. Some dried blood from the night before reddens the water in the basin slightly, and the soap in his wound stings. He thinks about bandaging it, but decides it’s not bad enough to be of major concern.

When Dream opens the door George’s eyes widen, the look of worry on his face unmistakable.

“That bad huh?” Dream says dryly. George looks him up and down, then grabs his hand almost violently. He studies Dream’s bite-damaged hand, and Dream curses himself for not bandaging it. Of course George would notice.

“You bit yourself,” George says, a little panicky, “Dream what is going on with you?”

“George I-“

“Do not push me away again, Clay. You’re hurting yourself. This has to stop.”

Dream pulls his hand out of George’s grip, grimacing slightly as his fingertips graze the wound. Their eyes meet, and Dream feels the telltale sting of tears once more. He needs to get out.

“No.”

“Clay!” George balks, and as Dream shoulders past him George grabs his arm. Dream shrugs him off again and heads determinedly to the front door, sliding on his sandals.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Before George can get another word in Dream steps out into the heavy rain, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he walks. His phone rings, buzzing against his skin annoyingly, but he ignores it.

His clothes are quickly soaked, hair plastered to his forehead. He can barely see where he’s going with the water in his eyes. His phone buzzes again and again, but he can’t muster the strength to answer it. Dream soon finds himself on a park bench, watching raindrops break against the pavement in front of him.

Dream needs help. George is right, this has gotten out of hand. He’s so beyond fucked at this point that he can’t see any way out of the hole that he’s in. Either he confesses and George returns his feelings, or he confesses and George rejects him, breaking what little of Dream’s heart was still intact. Sapnap was right too. Dream needs to see a therapist.

As if on cue Dream’s phone rings, and he pulls it out to see none other than Sap’s caller ID lighting up the screen. He thinks for a second that he should just decline the call, keep wallowing in his misery. He hits accept. He’s been enough of an asshole today.

“Hey.” He says, swallowing thickly.

“What the fuck dude?! George just called me all freaked out and crying! He said you hurt yourself and when he confronted you about it you just walked out, and now you won’t pick up your phone?!” Sapnap shouts from the other end of the phone. Dream cringes, pained at the hurt he’s caused.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, and he hates how small he sounds.

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to! I knew it was bad, man, but Jesus fucking Christ. I didn’t realize that you were so destructive.” Sapnap sounds pissed but Dream can hear the guilt that laces his tone. Dream feels his own worsen.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dream sighs, “I’ve lost my fucking mind. He haunts me Nick. I can’t stop dreaming about him, I can’t stop fantasizing about him. Every single touch and word drives me over the edge. I can’t handle the intensity, at some point I’m going to snap completely and fuck everything up.”

Nick is silent on the other end for a second.

“I think it’s past the point of you fucking everything up, Clay,” He says solemnly, “You’re clearly overwhelmed enough that you’re hurting yourself, and George noticed. He knows that something’s not right and he’s convinced that it’s his fault.”

“Shit,” Dream exclaims, violently pulling at his hair with his free hand, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Clay breathe,” Nick says, “You’ve got to calm down.”

“Nick I’ve ruined everything!” Dream exclaims, “George has to fucking hate me now! I’ve been such an asshat to him this whole time, and all he’s ever been is nice to me!”

“That’s not true dude,” Nick assures him, “George adores you. He’s literally beating himself up right now because he scared you off. There’s almost nothing you could do to make him hate you. You could straight up murder someone and he’d still think you’re amazing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dream laughs bitterly, “George tolerates me at most. He’s constantly frustrated and uncomfortable with me.”

Nick sighs angrily, “Oh my fucking god I’m so done with you two. Fuck it. He does so much more than tolerate you, Clay. He literally gushes about you every chance he gets, it’s actually really annoying. I’m 100% sure he has feelings for you too. You need to tell him.”

“I can’t,” Dream shakes his head miserably, trying to dispel the treacherous hope that snakes through his guts, “Nick, he doesn’t deserve to have all of my shit put on him.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Nick tells him, “You still need to see someone who can actually help you work through all of this. What he does deserve though? He deserves the truth about what’s been eating away at you, and a chance to speak for himself.”

Dream stays quiet.

“I know it’s hard,” Nick says softly, “But please Clay. You need to let this out. It’s done too much damage already. George and I miss you. He needs you. I need you. Come back to us.”

Dream feels like someone’s used his heart as a trampoline. He hangs his head in resignation. 

“Ok,” Dream says haltingly. He almost wants to take it back, but it’s too late now. He’s made up his mind. He prays it’s the right decision.

“Ok?” Nick asks.

“I’ll tell him,” Dream states, “And then I’ll look for a therapist.”

The sigh of relief from the other end of the phone is almost comedic. Dream feels his lips twitch in an aborted smile. Sapnap is always so expressive, it feels like he’s a character in a movie.

“Good.” Sap says, then adds a little sadly, “I really hope you’re going to be ok. Everything has gotten so weird lately. I don’t think this was how any of us wanted the meet up to go.”

“No,” Dream laughs shakily, “Definitely not.”

As he thinks about what he’ll have to next his hands begin to shake. He really doesn’t want Sap to hang up. He’s sure that he’s going to mess this up monumentally.

“Ok,” Sapnap says, “I’m sorry dude but I’ve got to go. My family has some stuff we need to take care of for my grandma.”

Oh god.

“Shit, yeah,” Dream mumbles, guilty at his self-centeredness, “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I haven’t really been supportive for you. I’m really sorry. How’s your grandma?”

“Uh, she’s still not in the worst of it, so I’ve been able to spend some quality time with her,” Sapnap says, sounding a bit hurried, “It’s still pretty hard though. She could take a turn for the worse and be gone any minute, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Dream says, “That sounds really tough.”

“It is,” Sap affirms, then clears his throat, “Ok I really have to go. But you’d better do what you told me you would. It’s time to get yourself sorted out.”

“I will, Sap,” Dream promises, “No chickening out this time. Take care. I love you dude.”

“I love you too,” Sapnap responds, “Good luck.”

The call disconnects with a beep-beep-beep. Dream stands, pocketing his slightly wet phone in his very wet shorts. He takes a deep, albeit shaky breath.

Great. Now he has to face George.


	16. Oh God It’s U

When Dream steps back into his house everything is disconcertingly still. There’s no movement, no sound. He can hear his breath shuddering in and out of his lungs.

Dream tugs his wet socks off his feet, and pulls his hoodie over his head, shaking out his hair. He drops them on the floor in his entryway for him to take care of later. He peers into the living room, expecting to see George but it’s empty, greeting his eyes with nothing but shadowy grays.

Dream heads for his bedroom, the only other place he can think of where George might be hiding. He notices wet footprints where he’s tread. The door to his room is closed, and he hesitates. Maybe George doesn’t want to see him after all. Maybe he should just turn around and leave.

Sapnap’s voice echoes in his mind, “There’s almost nothing you could do to make him hate you. You could straight up murder someone and he’d still think you’re amazing.”

Ok, He thinks, I can do this. It’s just George.

That’s the problem.

He knocks, then opens the door slowly.

“George?”

Dream hears the sheets of his bed rustle, but there’s no other response. His throat closes up. He’s screwed this up so badly.

Nonetheless he approaches the bed, climbing in next to George’s blanket-swathed form. He lays down awkwardly. In the back of his mind he realizes that his bed is getting soaked from his clothes. He can’t find it in himself to care.

“George?” He tries again, “I’m sorry. I owe you an explanation.”

George sighs, rolling over slowly to look at Dream. He’s definitely been crying. Goddammit. 

“You scared me, Clay,” He says, voice raw. It’s not accusatory, it’s just a statement of fact. It’s more painful than an accusation would have been, in all honesty.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out like that,” Dream apologizes. George’s hand emerges from the sheets, grasping his own with the bite-mark still boldly outlined on his skin.

“Please talk to me Clay,” George begs. The sense of being overwhelmed builds up in him again, but this time he lets it carry him over the edge.

“Everything has been too much recently,” He confesses, “I haven’t been coping very well and I’ve kind of been unintentionally harming myself because of how overwhelmed I’ve been. I can’t deal with the intensity so physical pain becomes and outlet.”

George nods, rubbing his thumb across the palm of Dream’s hand, which elicits a full-body tremor.

“Because of Sapnap leaving?” George questions. Dream shakes his head unenthusiastically. George frowns.

“Then why?”

Dream feels himself start to tremble. His breath is coming in quicker puffs, and his eyes sting. This was it. Nothing will ever be the same.

“George,” Dream’s voice cracks as he reaches to cup the shorter man’s face with his bandaged hand. George places his free hand over it and Dream dies a little inside. 

“God. I’m so in love with you that it hurts.”

He quickly retracts his hand from George’s face, rubbing harshly at his eyes. George is stunned. His face goes red and his grip on Dream’s bitten hand tightens to an almost painful extent. Dream’s brain is screaming at him to run but he’s glued to the spot, waiting for George to say or do something, anything. He can see George’s thoughts racing a million miles per hour, but silence is all that reaches his ears.

Just as he’s about to pull away and apologize, George speaks up softly.

“Really?” George whispers, and he chews on his lips as he waits for Dream’s response.

“Really,” Dream tells him, “I can barely think of anything but you at this point.”

“Oh,” George says, casting his eyes downward, “Well.”

Dream feels discomfort prickle his spine, and he tries to pull free but George holds him fast, grip much stronger than it had been that morning.

“Clay wait,” George says, and Dream stills. George is chewing his lips more fervently now, and Dream can tell he wants to say something but can’t find the words. He can feel the rejection coming on.

“George it’s fine if you don’t feel the sa-“ Dream starts.

“I do!” George cuts him off. Dream’s jaw drops.

Oh, Dream thinks. Oh.

“You do?!” He demands, unable to believe what he’s just heard.

“Yes,” George says meaningfully, giving him the softest look.

“Oh my god,” Dream breathes, scanning George’s eyes for any hint of a lie. He can’t find one. He’s never seen those earthy irises look more open and honest.

George’s cheeks are rosy, and an infectious smile breaks out across his face. Dream is sure he’s not awake right now. This can’t be real.

“Am I dreaming?” He asks, frightened at the fragility in his own voice.

George kicks him.

“Ow!” Dream yelps, “What was that for?”

“You’re not dreaming,” George says plainly, grin broadening further. At the realization of the sting in his shin where George kicked him, he finds himself matching the smile. His face aches. He hasn’t smiled like this in a long time, he realizes.

Dream pulls George closer and leans down to press a kiss to George’s lips. George gasps delightedly, kissing back gently. Dream can feel him smiling against his lips. George tastes so sweet.

When they pull apart Dream relishes the redness and warmth of George’s cheeks, the dazed look in his eyes. In one deft move he rolls George onto his back, climbing on top of him. He kisses George more desperately this time, itching to hear George make those little sounds he made in his dreams.

The whimper-like moan that springs from George’s throat is better than any song he’s heard. George has let go of his hand, fingers threading through Dream’s sandy hair. He shivers at the familiar sensation of George’s fingers brushing his scalp.

George pants when Dream pulls away, sliding one of his hands from Dream’s hair to wipe at his mouth.

“Fuck that was good,” George says, staring up at Dream with an expression that says ‘do it again’. Real George isn’t as shy as dream George. Real George is far better.

They kiss for what seems like ages, George compliant and flushed under Dream’s hands. Every touch, every brush of skin, every little sound that George makes is perfection. It’s better than all of his dreams and fantasies combined.

They kiss until Dream is so exhausted and overwhelmed that he can’t keep going. Dream pulls away, moving off of George in favor of settling next to him in the bed. They lie facing each other, hands intertwined in the little space between their bodies. George’s face is the picture of contentment. It feels safe.

“I’ve been dreaming about you non-stop,” Dream admits sheepishly, “This morning was because I had a dream last night and I was so desperate for it to be real that I had a mental breakdown.”

“Ah,” George responds, frowning a little in worry, “That’s no good.”

“No,” Dream says, “I’ve got a lot of shit I need to work through.”

“Ok. Well whatever it is you need to work through, I’m in it for the long run,” George declares, then sighs. He chews on his lips again.

Dream reaches out reflexively, swiping a thumb across George’s lips. George’s eyes go slightly unfocused before he glares at Dream.

“What was that for?” George demands.

“You always bite your lips when you’re stressed,” Dream scolds, “You’re going to make yourself bleed one of these days. Talk to me Georgie. What’s eating you?”

George rolls his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

“This probably sounds rather silly but...” He begins chewing on his bottom lip but catches himself, clearing his throat, “I think you’re my person, Clay.”

“Your person?” Dream wonders aloud. George thinks for a second.

“Like my one and only person. Soulmate kind of person,” George explains, “ I know it’s cheesy, but I’ve had feelings for you for ages. You’re the one that made me realize I don’t just like girls, and you’ve been occupying my heart ever since that revelation. Now suddenly, inexplicably, you feel the same. It’s like something out of a romance novel.”

Dream squeezes his hand gently, frowning slightly, “How long have you had feelings for me?”

“The past two years,” George answers without hesitation. He sounds almost pained. Dream’s frown deepens.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks. George laughs like he’s being absurd.

“I thought you were straight and it would ruin our friendship if I said anything,” George says.

“Yeah,” Dream says, feeling kind of stupid, “That’s fair. I didn’t know I wasn’t straight until very recently.”

“Oh,” George smiles with a twinge of sadness, “Am I your gay awakening?”

“Yes George,” Dream takes on a dramatic tone, “Your beauty is unmatched by any other.”

George giggles lightly. Dream smiles.

He drops the act, tightening his grip on George’s hand once more, “Seriously though, I’m sorry that I didn’t see it sooner. I don’t really know how long I’ve had feelings for you. Probably for a long time now but unfortunately I have the self-awareness of a piece of lint.”

“It’s... well it’s alright I suppose,” George says doubtfully, “I wish we had met up sooner. Maybe then I wouldn’t have spent so many hours rewatching old streams and fan clips just so I could hear your voice.”

“You did that?” Dream asks, a little smug at the idea of him occupying so much of George’s mind.

“God yes,” George groans, looking humiliated, “There were points in time where if you couldn’t sleep call I wouldn’t get any rest at all, so I started listening to random fan compilations of you talking and singing and shit.”

“Aw George,” Dream smiles goofily and presses a kiss to George’s knuckles, “We live in each other’s heads rent free.”

George scoffs, “Maybe those antis are on to something. You really are the worst. Falling for you has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Geoooorge,” Dream whines, “Take it baaaack.”

“No,” George says, “Never.”

“Guess I’ll date Sapnap instead then,” Dream jokingly threatens. George kicks him under the sheets again, “Ow!”

“In all seriousness though,” George says, consolingly brushing his thumb over Dream’s knuckles, “I wish I could go back in time and visit you in the past. If we had met then we might have been happier from the outset.”

“I wish we had met back then too,” Dream agrees, “Maybe then I wouldn’t have punched the shower wall and made Sapnap crazy with my stupidity.”

“Why on Earth would you punch a wall? You promised to tell me, remember,” George admonishes, scowling. Dream blushes.

“I was picturing all the things I’d like to do to you,” He admits, embarrassed.

George’s blush darkens to match his own, “Oh. I see.”

He clears his throat, then in a teasing tone says, “What exactly is it that you’d like to do to me, Dream?”

Dream looks him dead in the eyes, “I want to undo you completely.”

He’s half-joking but decides to go with serious when George makes an odd noise in the back of his throat.

“How?” He asks breathlessly.

“I want to kiss you until your lips swell. I want to bruise and mark up the insides of those fragile wrists you have, then do the same to your neck. I want to feel you shudder and writhe underneath me at the slightest touch. I want to make- I want to make you mine.”

George looks a little faint and more than a little interested in what Dream wants to do. A swarm of killer butterflies flutter through Dream’s rib cage. It’s like staring over the edge of a bridge, waiting to jump into the swirling waters below.

“Then do it.” George dares him, licking his lips nervously.

Dream dives off of the bridge.

He kisses George like a man starved. 

That day George becomes entirely his own, and he gives his entire self to George in return.


	17. Things That Make It Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Things That Make it Warm by Cavetown. 
> 
> Hey y’all! Thanks for sticking it out! I’ve written fics before but I’ve never published them, so it means a lot if anyone reads this. I hope you’re all doing wonderfully!

When he wakes the next morning golden sunlight pours through the blinds, sweet as lemonade on a 100 degree day. Birds sing in the trees and bushes outside. The storm has reared its ugly head for the last time. 

George lays sleeping in his arms, content and beautiful and very much real. He can feel real warmth, real weight, not dull fabrications of unconsciousness. His heart is whole and steadily beating in his chest, no longer veined with cracks of despair and undisclosed desire. George’s breathing is the rush of ocean waves to Dream’s ears.

He can feel himself drifting off to sleep again, and he lets it come without fear. He has George for real now, and he won’t ever let go. George is a piece of his own personal paradise. He is George’s person, and George is his. For once everything is enough. It will stay enough.

Dream had thought he was the luckiest man alive. Now he knows that for sure.


End file.
